


burn me

by moonmother



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, M/M, Smoking, chasang, i'm sorry to do them like this, n/hyuk - Freeform, nhyuk, older boy!n, sad!hyuk, small town sad boy hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmother/pseuds/moonmother
Summary: Sanghyuk’s gotten used to the bite and what it’s like to swallow carcinogens; it doesn’t bother him anymore.





	burn me

**Author's Note:**

> original request: "unrequited nhyuk"

He flicks ash off his cigarette, the burn swallowing over half of it before Sanghyuk realized, slow-waking from his daze, that he paid for this and he’s wasted over half of it. He puffs. Exhaled smoke.   
  
He moved to the porch to breathe better, to think better, but all he can focus on is the burn in his throat, the grit smudged onto the railing.   
  
Inside. Eyes reconnected with his across the living room, and Sanghyuk could feel the chills settle on his skin even if it was much too hot for it to be possible. Smoldering eyes, smoking eyes –– Sanghyuk felt like he was drowning.   
  
His fingers fumble with his pack of smokes and pulls out a second, using the lighter tucked in his pocket to set the end aflame, and he sucks in a shallow breath before bringing the new cigarette to his lips. Sanghyuk’s gotten used to the bite and what it’s like to swallow carcinogens; it doesn’t bother him anymore.  
  
Sanghyuk’s able to exhale three times before he hears, “There you are.”  
  
A glance up would show Sanghyuk that Hakyeon’s standing just outside the screen door, a foot away (too close), so he doesn’t bother looking and continues to stare down at the dahlias over the edge. He takes another drag.   
  
He can hear Hakyeon’s questions even though he’s not asking. He knows he’ll be looking at the cigarette poised between his fingers, and Sanghyuk grits his teeth together, knowing it was a mistake all along.  
  
“It’s, uh, been awhile.” Hakyeon’s voice is soft, touched with concern, and Sanghyuk knows he shouldn’t, but he looks up. Hakyeon's got his too-big jean jacket rolled up around his elbows and ripped black pants that show plenty of thigh, and Sanghyuk avoids the eyes at all costs. They burn.  
  
“Mm–hmm.” Sanghyuk flicks the cigarette to rid of the excess ash and watches as the sparks die in the air.   
  
“Avoiding me?”  
  
“You know, that’s what I’ve been asking for –– how long?”  
  
Hakyeon doesn’t answer and takes steps closer, angling himself so he’s shoulder-to-shoulder with Sanghyuk against the rail. The silence hurts; it never used to be this quiet, never this hard to break, and Sanghyuk chews on his lower lip. He hurts. “You never called.”  
  
“It was a rough year,” Hakyeon whispers. There’s a faint smile on the corner of his lips, and he shouldn’t do that –– Sanghyuk’s eyes are trained there, looking for the person he used to know in it.   
  
“Every year? Sounds like it was bad for both of us, then.”  
  
“I would’ve called––”  
  
“––but you didn’t, Hakyeon. You don't.”   
  
There’s more silence, and Hakyeon is drilling his nails against the rail, blunt against wood. Sanghyuk puffs out more smoke, and he can feel a tears behind his eyes, tears of a sad high schooler, and, _dammit_ , not this again.   
  
Another whisper, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”   
  
And it doesn’t matter, not really, because Hakyeon did –– does –– and, even as the smoke is dissipating in the air, Sanghyuk forgets. He takes another drag. He can’t even bring himself to fight because it’s just the same thing every time Hakyeon comes back. And nothing ever changes.  
  
It’s an unspoken agreement of theirs to not talk about it, never talk about it. Hakyeon doesn’t tell Sanghyuk the why’s of him not staying; Sanghyuk doesn’t bother with the details of how he can’t do this but wants to anyway. It’s been four years of waiting around, and Sanghyuk can’t imagine how this time will be different, how Hakyeon will love him.   
  
There’s something there, something that prevents Hakyeon from seeing Sanghyuk as long-term love. It’s like he’s scared. Sanghyuk can see it in his eyes sometimes when their shirts are off, when Hakyeon’s on top of him, and his eyes are wild. Uncaged.   
  
There’s something in Sanghyuk that lets this be long-term delusion, let’s this happen, agrees to let it happen, will accept Hakyeon’s kisses each time he runs home for the summer or Christmas, and Sanghyuk can’t get past it.   
  
High school was easy spent on Hakyeon’s floor, trying alcohol and drunk in giggles and so in love with everything that Hakyeon was. What he was, Sanghyuk wasn’t and isn’t. He swiped his first smoke from Hakyeon’s dresser. He lost his first kiss to Hakyeon’s lips, and his second, third, _hell_ , so many.   
  
He can feel Hakyeon’s eyes on his cigarette. Hakyeon doesn’t smoke any longer; he also doesn’t like Sanghyuk any longer. Not enough to keep him. When you need me, Sanghyuk seems to say with his eyes and his touch and his desperation, I’ll be here. Volatile is a good word for their situation.  
  
And when Hakyeon needs him, Sanghyuk’s willing.   
  
“Are you ready for this?” Sanghyuk finishes and stamps the cigarette butt under his heel. It joins the four others. His hands are shaking, nerves making him crave something stronger than a smoke, and Hakyeon’s in his hands before he can say much else.   
  
Roll him up; smoke him; but Sanghyuk’s the one on fire.

**Author's Note:**

> \- please support nhyuk in this economy  
> \- totally and unapologetically based off taylor swift's song "style"   
> \- thank you for reading✨


End file.
